


For the Love of a Princess

by tianaluthien



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, TDW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2014-05-05
Packaged: 2018-01-22 01:47:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1571459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tianaluthien/pseuds/tianaluthien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malekith has been defeated but the Earth has been destroyed, leaving Jane a refugee on Asgard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the track “For the Love of a Princess” from the Braveheart soundtrack and a .gif manip I saw of Jane and Loki touching hands. The two came together and PRESTO! The fic was born. My first foray into writing Lokane. I hope you enjoy. Also posted on my LJ, tianaluthien.livejournal.com and on the Lokane fanfic archive on tumblr.

She wakes too early in the most beautiful room she has ever slept in (marginalized astrophysicists do not get the executive suite at the Ritz). She knows that beyond the curtains lie an endless sea of stars and the golden world of Asgard, the most beautiful sight she has ever seen.

But at such a price.

She curls her knees into her chest she feeling like she is being ripped apart as her body body shakes with tears.

Malekith is destroyed.

But he took the earth with him.

~

Thor is kindness itself and she tries not to snap at him for she knows she is not the only one to have lost something, someone, but the grief, the fear, the _rage_ that boils inside her—

She seeks out Heimdall one day, perhaps a month after—well, after her arrival.

“Lady Jane,” he greets her, nodding gravely.

She nods in return but says nothing, looking around her at the shimmering colours of the Bifrost. She had dreamed of seeing this for so long and now—

Nothing. A great black emptiness is all that remains of her dreams.

“Heimdall.”

“My lady.”

“What did you see, that day?”

His golden eyes darken. “Lady Jane, are you—”

“ _Tell me_.” She almost screams the words and wonders why, how, she has so completely lost control.

Heimdall bows his head but not before she has seen the strangest smile of knowing flicker in the depths of his eyes. “Blood. A great explosion. Screams. Now a void.”

She swallows back bile, trembling. “What about Darcy and—and Erik?”

“They were together.”

Against the backdrop of such horror it seems so small a thing but she clings to it, relieved that they did not die alone.

Heimdall’s head snaps up and she jumps.

“What is it?” she asks, curious in spite of herself.

“Loki has been found.”

~

Thor had argued against searching for his brother, reasoning that if or when Loki wanted to return, he would. His actions, Thor said, had proved to him that Loki – the Loki he had once known and loved – still lived, at least in part. To imprison him again would be madness.

Odin had not listened. 

_Bastard_. 

No matter what Thor or even Heimdall said, Odin had turned a deaf ear – had, in fact, ordered Thor to lead the search party.

Thor had refused.

Jane remembered that moment. Remembered that in spite of the numbness, she had never felt more proud of him. She had never had a brother or a sister, but in watching Thor and Loki during the past weeks—

There were some things, it seemed, that even betrayal upon betrayal could not break.  
Loki’s past was drenched in blood, impossible to erase, but in helping save them all, or trying, in saving her—

Whatever issues he had – and he had plenty – she doubted that imprisonment was the solution. Not for someone whose sanity hung by a thread as his obviously did.

So she had watched as Odin’s eye bulged, as a vein stood out in his forehead. Again he commanded and again Thor refused, not flinching even as Odin slammed his spear against the dais.

As she stood in the shadow of a column Fandral and Heimdall stepped forward to flank him, whether out of belief in Loki or love for Thor, and she felt her feet move. Slowly she went to join them.

Thor took her hand, squeezed it gently to show his thanks.

Odin glared at them all with his one good eye. He said something – Jane wasn’t sure _what_ , she was aware of very little these days – and stormed out of the chamber.

They found out an hour later that the search party had been sent out under the leadership of a lesser captain.

And now that search party had returned.

~

She walks the halls of the palace and as she passes the library she hears raised voices from behind the closed door: Odin, Thor, Heimdall. Fandral stands guard and flashes her a roguish grin.

She cannot return his smile or feel his confidence. Would it kill Odin to act like a father instead of a king? Or had he ruled too long to know where one ended and the other began? Would he have listened to Frigga were she still alive?

She continues on, winding her way down to the prison levels. Heimdall’s announcement had caused rage to surface, drowning out despair. Rage over injustice, rage that old wounds kept being torn open, or—

She can’t pin down her reasons for seeking Loki out and doesn’t much care. She only knows that for the first time in over a month she feels for someone other than herself. So she follows her feet.

She hears him before she sees him.

Screaming.

Echoing, echoing, _echoing_ throughout the corridors, bouncing off the stone walls and growing louder instead of dimmer. Even the guards are uneasy, barely acknowledging her as she passes.

She hears blackness and rage and despair, hears him dripping blood with every cry.

As she rounds the corner to the glass prison he falls silent. She sees him and the destruction he has wrought, worse than before: broken furniture, scattered books, shredded pages, red smears on the walls and glass, where he clawed or pounded, trying to escape.

She sees him on the floor by the glass wall, huddled into himself. His back is to her but she can see him shaking. Can see his bloodied hands. No strength for any illusion.

Her heart twists within her and she feels sick. Drawing her cloak closer she climbs the steps and nestles herself on the ledge, her side pressed to the glass. She says nothing and she has made no sound (she thinks) but Loki raises his head, his emerald gaze a hairs-breadth from insanity. She stares back at him, silent and curiously unafraid.

His eyes narrow to slits and she braces herself for a stinging word but—

Nothing.

Slowly, he lowers his head. He remains curled with his back to her, but she notices the shaking has stopped.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She waits until he falls asleep before she slips away.

She waits until he falls asleep before she slips away. 

“How did you find him?” Thor asks, closing the door to her sitting room behind him. 

She feels a faint smile tug at her lips; Thor has never been one for subtlety.

Then she remembers Loki’s screams, his bloodied hands, the void in his eyes. Her smile disappears. “Your father is an idiot,” she snaps, not caring if she offends him.

Oddly, Thor does not seem offended. She wonders if he thinking the same thing.

“He did not listen today,” he says.

She is about to make some sarcastic comment, but his turn of phrase gives her pause. “Today?”

Thor grins – and it is the grin of a warrior going into battle, a battle he has vowed to win or die trying. “Today,” he repeats. “And tomorrow I will speak to him again. And the next day and the next. Until he listens.”

She looks out the window. “He’d better listen quickly. Loki—it’s bad, Thor. Really bad. Worse than before.”

Thor says nothing and when she finally looks at him again, she sees how tired he is, how sad, and yet—and yet he is watching her with the most peculiar expression. Almost a mirror image of what she saw on Heimdall’s face.

“Thor?”

He smiles wearily. “Look after him, Jane. I do not think he will want to see me yet.”

She blushes, though she can’t think why. How had he known she was planning on returning? “I will.”

Thor unties a satchel that hangs from his waist. “Give him this, when you can. Tell him it’s from me. He will understand.”

“What is it?”

Thor only smiles. “Let him show you.” He rises and kisses the top of her head. “Goodnight, Jane.”

She watches him leave, his cloak a billow of red behind him. Once they had been literally worlds apart but now that they are together, after everything that’s happened—

Now she feels alien in another way and she wishes she did not feel so adrift, so cut loose from everything including the man who was once her anchor. 

He feels it too and that is a small relief, knowing she does not have to pretend. 

She stares down at the satchel in her lap. She thinks she understands, perhaps a little, how Loki feels.

~

She finds Loki just as she had left him the day before and that shakes her more than she cares to admit. She sits down next to him on the other side of the glass wall, saying nothing. She has brought her notebook with her in a fit of industriousness, suddenly curious as to whether she can ascertain Asgard’s place in the stars in relation to Earth-that-was.

It’s a thought.

“Did Thor send you?”

Though dripping venom, his voice is a shadow of what she remembers.

“No,” she replies, staring at his back. She has the feeling he did not expect a negative answer for he remains silent (Silvertongue with nothing to say?). Then:

“Why are you here, Jane Foster?”

The voice now sounds only tired.

It is her turn to be silent. She cannot answer that question simply. “I don’t know,” she says at last.

“I do not want your pity,” he snarls.

“I’m not offering it,” she snaps.

“Then why are you here?”

“I already told you, I don’t know.”

He gives a mirthless laugh that shakes his body more than it should. “There is always a motive – what do you want, Jane Foster?”

She feels her anger bubbling and she counters with a question of her own. “Do _you_ always understand your own motive?” After what she has seen of him, she thinks she knows the answer.

Loki says nothing. Satisfied, she returns her attention to her notebook. She is running out of pages.

For a while the only sound that can be heard is the scratching of her pencil against the page; she is working with limited resources since she is incapable of reading any of the books in the library and she cannot find a grammar or a lexicon. Not that limited resources ever stopped her before.

_If Earth – Midgard – is—was—one of the nine realms and they are all branches of Ygdrassil – connected – then—_

“What are you doing?”

She can’t help the smile that tugs at her mouth; she doesn’t know where it comes from, but—

“Working.”

She hears something that sounds like a laugh but is replaced almost at once by an irritated sigh. “On _what_ are you working, Jane Foster?” His voice is condescending, as though speaking to a child.

 _Fine._ “On the stars.”

Silence. Then: “Would you be so kind as to grant me a more detailed answer instead of one fit only for an idiot?”

“Then stop treating me like one.”

Again he says nothing. She turns and finds that he now sits facing her. His face, always pale, is white, and his green eyes are narrowed, locked on her.

She stares back at him, unable to decide if she has been incredibly brave or incredibly stupid.

“Aren’t you afraid of me?”

She tilts her head, surprised. “Yes. No. I’m not sure.” She chews on her lip. “I don’t think so.”

His jaw tightens. “You should be, _mortal_.” 

_Again with this?_ “Why? I don’t think we’re so different.” Except for the whole demi-god thing.

“You—”

“Do you want to know what I’m working on or not?” 

The look on his face makes her wonder once more about the fine line between bravery and idiocy.

Then she decides she doesn’t care. She raises an eyebrow at his silence. “Well?”

She sees anger, pride, _hunger_ flash through his eyes.

“Show me,” he says at last.

 _Oh hell._ She steels herself and shows him.

Hours pass as they explain their sciences to each other, Loki pointing out more flaws with her plotting than she cares to admit (“It’s only preliminary, dammit.”), but eventually a gong sounds and a guard comes to escort her out.

“Oh, um, right. Okay.” She stands, fumbles, drops the book. She turns to say – what? – to Loki, but his back is already turned to her.

Biting her lip, she follows the guard; she gives him Thor’s satchel making sure he understands that Thor will be _very displeased_ unless Loki receives it intact immediately. 

Only once she surfaces into the palace does she realize that for the hours spent with Loki, she forgot to feel sadness.

~

He does not watch her leave but he _feels_ it, feels the breath of fresh air leaving him alone and full of emptiness.

He hates that she wakens his mind and distracts him.

He hates that she does not fear him.

He hates that she is beautiful.

But mostly he hates the damned _hope_ she has kindled inside him. For hope, he has learned, is treacherous.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane returns the following day, sees Loki’s eyes widen, light flicker across his face before he can hide it and fills her with a warmth she has not felt in so long.

Jane returns the following day, sees Loki’s eyes widen, light flicker across his face before he can hide it and fills her with a warmth she has not felt in so long. 

It frightens her, this darkness mingled with – something else – that lives in her. It frightens her that Loki of all people is the one to bring it about. It frightens her that he is the one who awakens her mind, that he is the one who _understands_ her.

The bastard.

She looks again and his face is shuttered. Or – almost. She can see the cracks in the porcelain. 

“You return,” he says. He is sitting on the floor with his back to the wall and she sees Thor’s satchel tied to his waist. As she sits down by the glass she notices his hands have been cleaned. 

“Yes,” she replies, drawing her knees up under her dress.

“Why? Do you tire of Thor so soon?”

She glares at him. “We’ve had this conversation and it’s boring.”

“I do not find it so.”

“Well _I_ do.”

“Then it seems we are at an impasse, Jane Foster.”

It’s on the tip of her tongue to tell him just what she thinks of his impasse, but then she remembers the brokenness she has seen, the wild, tiny flame of hope he is trying so hard to fight; she has learned how to read him in the past weeks, though he would hate her for saying it, for being able to do it. Loki is many things, not all of them good, but she remembers what she saw on Svartalheim, remembers some of the things Thor and Frigga said to her. _We aren’t so different, are we?_

“Is it so hard to believe that I am here by my own choice?”

“Yes.” He avoids her gaze and she is surprised he answered her truthfully.

“Well, believe it – because you’re the only one who thinks no one else cares.”

His head snaps up and his eyes flash. “Do not presume to know my family better than I.”

“I don’t,” she says, realizing that she doesn’t even know Thor – not in the way she knows Loki. “But I can tell you what I’ve seen. Thor – hell, even Heimdall and Fandral – have been with Odin since you, um, returned trying to get him to free you.”

Loki frowns. “Fandral.”

Jane feels her lips twitch. “He seems less mistrustful of you than the others. Something about you saving Thor’s life.”

He looks away again and when he speaks his voice is flat. “They will not succeed. And if they do, what then? I have no home, Jane Foster.”

“Neither do I.” The words are out before she can stop them and suddenly she cannot breathe for the weight of loss pressing down on her, squeezing the air from her lungs. _Oh Erik, Darcy… **Damn you to hell Malekith.**_

Then Loki is there, in front of her, one hand held to the glass. He says nothing but his emerald eyes hold hers, so wide, so open. So strange and yet so familiar.

Without thinking she raises her hand and places it opposite his, suddenly, desperately wishing that there were no glass between them, that their fingers could curl around each other and not let go.

As she watches, his eyes change and she sees her own longing mirrored in his gaze. She has never felt so exposed. Nor has she ever seen _him_ so naked before.

That is when she knows that she will get him out or die trying.

How long they stay there she doesn’t know, doesn’t care (should she?). But then she blinks and Loki has recoiled; he is sitting on the floor, his pale hands folded together too tightly, face blank. Off-kilter, Jane scowls at him (he almost smirks, she can tell) and settles herself on the ledge by the glass wall. If it _is_ glass – it hums like something alive and if it’s only glass than there’s no way it could hold Loki. Is it an electrical barrier of some kind? But—

“What have you brought?”

Jane twitches, startled out of her thoughts, and looks down at the book in her lap. She starts to blush but manages to stop. Let him mock if he will. 

“Fairy tales.”

He raises an eyebrow in a mixture of indignation and condescension. “You seek to distract me with children’s stories?”

“I really wouldn’t call them children’s stories. And anyway, no one said they were for _you_.” She opens the book and starts to read. Silently. She isn’t sure how much arrogance is genuine and how much is for show, but she’ll be damned if she’s going to read to him when he’s in _that_ kind of a mood no matter how she feels about him. If – _when_ – he gets out their arguments will be spectacular, she is certain. And if she weren’t ready to slap him (again) she might laugh at the thought.

The silence lasts all of a minute before she hears, quietly and a little sullenly, “Please read.”

She doesn’t look up but turns her eyes back to the top of the page. “Once upon a time there was a wealthy merchant who had three daughters…”

It’s one of her favourites she tries to do the voices the way her father used to (though he was a much better Beast than she’ll ever be). At last she finishes, her mouth dry from speaking.

“She married the monster.” Loki’s voice sounds odd.

“Yes.”

“After all he did – tearing her away from her family, lying – why would she do that?”

The guard is approaching. Is it that time already?

Jane looks back at Loki, holding the book tightly to her chest. “Because she saw that he wasn’t the monster everyone said. The monster he believed himself to be. And—and she loved him. Goodnight, Loki.”

 

Loki stares at the place where she had sat long after she is gone. The lights dim, signalling nightfall, but he is not tired. He retreats to a corner and reaches for the small leather satchel that Jane had given him, telling him it was from Thor.

He opens it and turns it upside down. The object that falls out is the last thing he expected to see and forces him to admit (grudgingly) that Thor is more perceptive than he gives him credit for. 

He slips it back into the purse and his fingers close convulsively over it. A terrible band tightens around his chest so that he cannot breathe. That damned, treacherous thing called _hope_ that _does not matter_ because he will never get out and Jane—

_Damn you Thor._

He throws up an illusion and buries his head in his knees, weeping for all he has lost and all he will never have.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is her last card, and it’s not much of one, but she’s willing to play it even if it blows up in her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who are interested, the second half of the chapter was the first part of this story that popped into my head and it happened while listening to this track from the Braveheart soundtrack: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fk8323r577w

“I don’t care if he’s sleeping. Wake him up.”

Thor grins at the guard and hefts Mjolnir, wondering briefly if Jane has any Valkyrie ancestry.

The guard exits the room at a run and the sight makes Thor laugh, a rumble beginning deep in his chest. He doubts it’s Mjolnir the guard is so afraid of and feels a strange sense of optimism for the first time since Loki was brought back. Jane Foster is a remarkable woman.

Minutes pass and Jane paces faster and faster. “What’s taking him so long?” she mutters. “And how can he even _sleep_ —”

Odin looks irritable (more so than usual) when he finally arrives, like one who hasn’t slept in days and who would like nothing more than to do just that. He opens his mouth—

“You let him out,” Jane says, suddenly right in front of him, chin raised. “You let him out _now_ , you stubborn bastard.”

Odin looks old. Very old. “Why should I do that?” he asks, sounding weary.

“Because he’s your son and I love him and you’re not the only one who’s hurting.”

Odin stares down at her with narrowed eyes, then up over her head at Thor. “You love him,” he repeats. “I thought…”

Jane flushes, not realizing she’d spoken the words out loud. And that she’d also called the All-father a stubborn bastard to his face. _I’m sorry, Thor._

“You thought wrong, Father.” Thor’s voice is grave but peaceful in a way she hadn’t been expecting.

Odin returns his attention to Jane. “And does he—my—Loki love you?”

_I don’t know. Maybe. I think so?_ “That’s not the point,” she snaps. “He’s your son—”

“He tried to conquer your world and kill his brother—”

“And then he tried to save both of them – doesn’t that count for anything?”

They’re glaring at each other, neither willing to move, and Jane doesn’t care that he’s the All-father and a demi-god. All she cares about is the slight, almost imperceptible, glisten in his icy blue eyes. Please…

“And if I don’t?”

Jane feels herself deflate at the words. What had she been thinking? That one puny mortal – a puny mortal Odin doesn’t even like – could change the All-father’s mind? _Idiot._ She makes herself as tall as she can and raises her chin even higher. This is her last card, and it’s not much of one, but she’s willing to play it even if it blows up in her face. “Then you’ll have to put me in there with him.” 

~

She stands on the ledge with one hand against the glass, Loki’s palm pressed on the other side. He is staring at her, eyes wide, face blank and white. The muscles in his neck are taut, straining, as though he is holding himself together by force of will alone. The glass shimmers and then—

The warmth of flesh on flesh, so sudden it makes her jump. _Oh._ Tears sting her eyes. _Oh._

Loki stares at their hands and for a moment he looks like a little boy just awakened from a nightmare. Slowly, so slowly, as though he cannot believe it and is afraid it will all fade, his fingers move, sliding between her own. Her breath catches – he _fits_ – and she tightens her grip. He responds and she feels comfort in the strength of his slender fingers.

“Jane.” It’s barely a whisper but she can hear it, can see the red rimming his eyes. He is holding himself so carefully it makes her heart ache.

“Loki.” She reaches up to touch his face, to move a matted lock of hair behind his ear. He ducks, leaning into her hand and she cradles him, the tips of her fingers running slowly along the side of his head, buried in his hair.

“Jane, I—”

Neither is sure who moves first but they are in each other’s arms and those watching cannot tell where one ends and the other begins, tangled as they are, holding on for dear life.

Thor looks on, smiling as tears stream down his face. At last he sees something good. Frigga had been right. _Thank you, Mother._


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I have been looking for you,” he says at last. She raises her chin. “You found me.”

A day passes before they see each other again. She knows that most of the time Loki and Odin have been closeted together (with Thor present to keep them from killing each other), but she feels adrift again. And afraid. She wonders if something so fragile can be sustained, especially since she still is not certain how _he_ feels. Then she remembers the touch of his hand, the strength of his grip, and feels a little comforted. 

But much depends on Odin and whatever they are saying to each other now will be only the beginning. At least, she hopes it will be a beginning. 

She trails a hand along a column as she walks around it, the marble cool beneath her fingertips, and that is when she sees him. His hair has been combed and cut, and he is wearing a simple tunic of emerald green. He steps out of the shadows and looks at her. 

“I have been looking for you,” he says at last.

She raises her chin. “You found me.”

The ghost of a smile flickers across his lips. “Will you walk with me?”

She nods and follows him to a corner of the gallery that looks out onto the city. He paces, avoiding her gaze, and it occurs to her that she is not the only one afraid of this moment. She stretches out her arm, fingers brushing the soft material of his sleeve. He jerks to a stop inches from her and she reaches up to touch his hair, rubbing it softly between her fingers. The haircut suits him, she thinks. Loki closes his eyes, dipping his head to rest in the palm of her hand. He sighs, his breath warm on her skin, and she rubs her thumb over his lips. _Perhaps we’re not so hopeless._

“What did Odin say?” she asks at length.

His breathing stills. “Much.”

“Loki.”

He doesn’t answer and she says nothing, waiting. “It is—something,” he answers finally. “If it weren’t for Thor— Neither of us can make promises yet.”

She nods once, fingers trailing down his face. He shivers.

“Jane.”

His voice is hoarse and she drops her hand feeling cold. “Yes?”

Loki brings out the purse she had given him. “Did Thor tell you what was inside?”

She shakes her head. “No. He wanted you to show me.”

“Did he?” This time she is sure Loki smiles though his hands are shaking as he unties the drawstring and tips the contents into his palm: a ring of woven gold with a ribbon of emeralds running through it. “It belonged to Mother,” he says. “She said it was for the—first of us to marry. Thor had it because—” He stops and swallows hard.

“Because you all thought he would marry me.” Jane sighs and shakes her head. “And— _oh_. He’s given it to _you_.” How had Thor known? How had he known before she did?

Loki pulls back his face white. “Unless you do not wish to marry the monster,” he says stiffly. 

Jane gives him a look of exasperation. “You still don’t get it, do you? I’m not marrying a monster, I’m marrying _you_.”

“I am not Thor, Jane Foster. I am not so—good.”

She raises an eyebrow. “I know. But you’re not all bad either. And I’m taking you with _all_ of that.”

He still looks as though he cannot believe her. “Five thousand years is a long time to be married to me, Jane Foster.”

She grins at him. “Bring it.”

Loki laughs, and he seems as surprised as she by the sound. When he reaches for her his touch is hesitant, as though he still can’t believe her, so she closes the distance. His kiss is soft and tastes of cold air and pine, and as she smiles against him a vision dances before her eyes: laughter and tears and spectacular arguments and the chorus of children’s voices.

“Did you—”

“—see it?”

Loki smiles – a true smile – and for an instant she sees the man he once was and might be again, in ages to come. Well, she has time. She has all the time in the world.

He slides the ring on her finger and she is surprised to find that it fits perfectly. 

“Well then, Jane Foster.”

“Well then, Loki Odinson.”

And when she is wrapped in his arms, listening to the steady beating of his heart, she knows they have both come home.

~

“Mother was right,” Thor says, stepping away and turning to the All-father.

Odin sighs and Thor can’t help but see how weary he seems. “She was never wrong. I should have listened.”

“You did in the end.” 

“Do they know?”

“That Mother knew Jane would save him? No.”

“She said ‘a princess’.”

Thor grins and looks over his shoulder at Jane and Loki. “She is a princess, Father. She needs no crown for that.”

_~finis~_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :) I hope you've enjoyed!


End file.
